


adore

by cassyl



Series: witcher femslash february [8]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Engagement, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassyl/pseuds/cassyl
Summary: Continuation ofthe lodge. On vacation with Cerys, Ciri struggles to accept how good things can be
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Cerys an Craite
Series: witcher femslash february [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191461
Kudos: 2





	adore

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to [@bamf-jaskier](https://bamf-jaskier.tumblr.com/)'s [Witcher Femslash February](https://bamf-jaskier.tumblr.com/post/641932214927523840/i-noticed-that-there-is-a-startling-lack-of-prompt) prompts!

Cerys falls back onto the bare mattress, breathless and spent. They’d forgotten the bed wasn’t already made up, and by the time they realized it, neither of them felt much like finding the linen closet. “You could do that again sometime,” she says, stretching languidly and giving Ciri a big, loose grin.

“All right, then,” Ciri says lightly, and leans down to kiss a spray of freckles on Cerys’s shoulders. Her heart clenches at the sight of Cerys lying there, so comfortable in her body, in her pleasure, in her closeness to Ciri. She marvels how Cerys seems to take this for granted—how good it is, how easy. Ciri didn’t know it could be like this, before Cerys. She’s seen people in love, of course—her parents, long ago, and her grandparents, Yennefer and Geralt and Jaskier in various tortured combinations over the years—but there were always secrets held back, struggles for power, doubts never spoken. She didn’t knew love could be as big and solid and sure as this.

Cerys surges forward, taking advantage of Ciri’s distracted state, and flips Ciri onto her back, pressing her naked body against Ciri’s, still lavishly slick where her thighs touch Ciri’s. “After all,” she says, “we’ve got our whole lives together.”

And then, unaccountably, Ciri feels tears welling up, and she raises her hands to cover her face and wipes at her eyes, willing herself to stop. “Ah, fuck,” she mutters—and she’s Geralt’s daughter, through and through, that same hopeless submission to something she can’t stop.

Cerys goes still above her, one warm palm on her shoulder, grounding her. “All right, pet?”

“I’m fine,” Ciri groans, so terribly embarrassed that she can’t keep a lid on this ridiculous, illogical outburst. This is supposed to be a good thing—and it is, it is, it’s _so good_ , and, oh, fuck, she can’t breathe. “Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

“Love, it’s all right,” Cerys says, climbing off her and gathering Ciri up into her harms. “I’ve got you. Go on, don’t fight it.”

Ciri can’t. She sobs into Cerys’s bare collarbone for a humiliatingly long time, until, at long last, she finally tires herself out. All through this mortifying ordeal, Cerys strokes her hair and murmurs little nonsense nothings that Ciri can’t quite make out over her revolting wet sniffling.

“What was all that, then?” Cerys asks, when Ciri’s breathing finally starts to return to normal.

“I just,” Ciri says, grasping for some explanation that will suffice. Because the thing is, Ciri is _really_ good at holding herself together when things go wrong. She lost her parents and then, later, her grandparents, and she got through it both times by buckling down and being brave and not going all to pieces because she couldn’t afford to. And in the time before Geralt found her, when she was not precisely alone in the world but might as well have been, she managed all right, too. And she didn’t fall apart, then, either, didn’t even cry all that much, because she understood that she had to be tough to survive. She knew that even with Geralt, who loves her so profoundly but couldn’t always make her life easier for her, not because he didn’t try his damnedest but because sometimes these things are out of one person’s control. And they got through that, too—white-knuckling it, more often than not, but they came through, together. Ciri has always known she has to be strong, because the alternative is to be nothing at all.

And now—alone here with Cerys, tangled up with her in this unmade bed in this empty country house, lying in bed with the woman she loves, the woman she’s going to _marry_ —now, for the first time in her whole life, she thinks that maybe the alternative to being strong might not be to be nothing, it might to be soft, to yield, to be tender—that it might be OK to let go, a little bit, to really trust. And that scares the hell out of her, because she’s not sure she knows how to relax into that, to take it for granted the way Cerys seems to do so effortlessly. 

“I just love you so much.”

Cerys laughs gently and kisses her sweaty hair, her damp cheeks. “Oh, is that all?”

Ciri smiles despite herself, pressing her lips into Cerys’s collarbone and loving her and loving her. It just doesn’t stop, this loving Cerys. She keeps thinking she’ll find the limit of it someday, but that moment never seems to come. And maybe if it keeps rising up to meet her, this love, eventually she’ll learn to trust it, to be easy with it, the way Cerys is. “I love you,” she repeats, meaning it so very much, and failing to put it more eloquently than that. She wishes she had a thesaurus, or Jaskier’s a rhyming dictionary, that she could recite all the synonyms for the verb “to love,” in the hopes it would help her explain herself better. “I love you, and I just . . .” 

“It’s all right,” Cerys says, “we’ve got all the time in the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://likecastle.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
